


Rituals

by hopeless_eccentric



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February 2021, Fluff, Getting Back Together, HELL YEAH! GO LESBIANS GO, Intimacy, Kissing, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, THIS IS RIDICULOUSLY SOFT, Tenderness, women really do love women huh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29146656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/pseuds/hopeless_eccentric
Summary: It was strange to knock on the door of a woman who had known her so intimately once. Vespa tried her best not to think about it.“Yes?” Buddy called from the other side of the door, clearly shaking sleep from her voice. She sounded more like Captain Aurinko then, prepared for any member of the ship. Vespa knew, logically, that the tone had been donned for the overwhelming probability that anyone else could have been at her door. It didn’t make her chest ache any less."It's me.""Vespa, are you alright?"“I--” Vespa paused to clear her throat, still groggy with attempted sleep. “I can’t sleep without your perfume, Bud.”
Relationships: Buddy Aurinko/Vespa Ilkay
Comments: 20
Kudos: 42
Collections: The Penumbra Podcast Femslash February 2021!





	Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> MAN ugh i love women
> 
> Content warnings for minor vespa-typical self hatred but nothing too terrible

Vespa Ilkay couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in a bed, let alone a decent one. In the Cerberus Province, hammocks were a luxury, let alone cots or the occasional sleeping bag. The beds on the Carte Blanche were nearly nice enough to convince her she had died, though she wasn’t enough of an optimist to think the afterlife would feel half as good as memory foam on a sore back.

She hadn’t ever considered herself one of those people who took luxuries for granted. After years of being cooked alive by a harsh, beating star she couldn’t believe she had ever compared to Buddy, she wasn’t one to complain about a roof over her head and a king-sized mattress all to herself.

And yet, she couldn’t seem to force herself to sleep.

Vespa almost nodded off once, but then the pillows sank deep enough for her to drown in them, so she had to shove them to the side and try again. Her next attempt was foiled by a sore neck that only got sorer with every new position she tried, leaving the sheets tangled and too hot and too cold all at once until the blankets were too much and the fan was too much and no matter which way she arranged her arms and shoulders and spine, she couldn’t make any of the deep, easy breaths that heralded sleep pass her lips.

The mattress could have been miles wide. The room could have been a planet in itself with Vespa trapped in the core, pressed under millions of tons of pressure just trying to keep her from splitting apart and crumbling away to the far corners of the galaxy.

When sleep would not come, the memory of the last time she had slept in a bed that nice returned. Vespa would have gladly traded them. Buddy had pressed kisses to her forehead as if she could love away the nerves about the next day’s heist, that great, twisting monolith of thought that pierced through Vespa’s mind even before it had nearly killed her.

Buddy had squeezed her hand for just a moment, then replaced it on Vespa’s face to write a soliloquy with the stroking of her thumb over a cheekbone that used to be less sharp. She murmured sweet nothings that meant everything to Vespa and held her tight, but not so tight that there was any implication that they might not end the next day in the exact same manner.

Every night had been a ritual made just for them.

Vespa didn’t need a medical degree to know exactly why she couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t watched Buddy do her hair and put on her shell pink robe and moisturize her hands with the same vaguely vanilla scented lotion Vespa had always loved. She hadn’t pulled out her comms to check her inbox and Buddy hadn’t done the same thing just a foot or two away from her in bed, her legs still atop the covers, right crossed over left. She hadn’t pulled the cord on the lamp on her side of the bed and put her comms away first, for Buddy wouldn’t set hers aside until she knew Vespa was ready for bed too. There were not reasons for these rituals. There didn’t have to be.

She couldn’t find the right temperature because she accustomed the volume of her fan and the number of her bed sheets to the warmth of the body at her side. Buddy always ran warm, so Vespa had always kept the fan on a little higher than she would if she were alone. She had memorized the correct settings for togetherness, so the accustomation to an empty bedroom was foreign.

Buddy had suggested that they share a bed, though Vespa had coughed out some excuse or another of wanting to regulate her sleep schedule before she kept Buddy up all night.

It wasn’t her sleep schedule she was truly afraid of, and from the way Buddy nodded and swallowed and gave her hand an extra squeeze, she was afraid that she had seen right through the excuse. The fact of the matter was that Buddy Aurinko had not known her at her worst for far too many years for Vespa to feel safe in knowing that she would be willing to do so again, were she to have a particularly concerning medical emergency.

Vespa tried to roll over again. She tried to count her breaths, count her vertebrae, count her regrets like electric sheep until sleep did her some small mercy and took her away, but her eyes remained firmly open, taking in the buzzing gray dark of her quarters instead of the backs of her eyelids.

A glance at the clock told her it was nearly two in the morning, ship time.

She shouldn’t leave her bed. Eventually, she would be exhausted enough and sleep would take her of its own volition.

She glanced at the clock again and winced, for no time had slipped through her fingers when for once, she needed it to do so.

After another two minutes that seemed to stretch into two hours, Vespa threw her coat around her shoulders to combat the nighttime chill of the ship and slunk out of her room towards the Captain’s quarters.

It was strange to knock on the door of a woman who had known her so intimately once. Vespa tried her best not to think about it.

“Yes?” Buddy called from the other side of the door. She sounded more like Captain Aurinko then, prepared for any member of the crew. Vespa knew, logically, that the tone had been donned for the overwhelming probability that anyone else could have been at her door. It didn’t make her chest ache any less.

“Bud?” She started.

The door slid open in a moment, fast enough that Vespa had time to see Buddy soften.

She wasn’t wearing the same pink robe she had always donned, though Vespa supposed it made sense. After enough nightly rituals of Vespa’s head pressed into her shoulder while she did her skincare routine, it had begun to smell like Vespa’s shampoo. She could understand not wanting to cling onto that kind of ghost, watching it fade to nothing day by day.

“Vespa,” Buddy smiled, though not quickly enough to hide her surprise. “Darling, are you alright?”

“I—” Vespa paused to clear her throat, still groggy with attempted sleep. “I can’t sleep without your perfume, Bud.”

“Oh, Vespa—“

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t you worry about it in the slightest,” Buddy returned gently, offering a hand across the thousand mile wide handful of inches between them. “Why don’t we take our conversation inside? I doubt many of our crewmates would be as open to such a lack of sleep as you or I.”

Vespa took her by the hand, feeling an exhale leave her at the realization that their palms still slotted together in the same way they always had, back when every night was a ritual and every tomorrow was a given.

Buddy shut the door behind them and walked her to the bed. If anything, Vespa had expected her to take a seat on the edge and gesture for her to do the same, perhaps allowing her a moment to loose a few cracked and bloodied feelings into the dry, synthetic air and then send her on her way.

However, Buddy laid atop the side of the bed she had always occupied, on top of the sheets. She crossed her legs, right over left. She let go of Vespa’s hand to pat the mattress at her side.

“Buddy, what are you doing?”

“Well, I thought it would be best not to bother with pretense,” Buddy smiled, the same nerves that had tugged on her when first asking Vespa if they ought to try being a pair making their first debut in what felt like a century. “You can’t sleep without my perfume, I can’t sleep without your body heat. Perhaps I’m moving quickly, but I see only one path forward.”

“Oh, thank God, I thought it was only me,” Vespa breathed.

She was all too happy to climb into bed at Buddy’s side. Buddy pulled the new robe from her shoulders and hung it on the same bedpost she always used to hang the one Vespa remembered. The moment Vespa dragged herself under the covers, Buddy did the same, holding her arms open for an embrace Vespa had nearly forgotten.

When Vespa hesitated for just a moment, Buddy squeezed her hands, familiar arms walking her through the steps, teaching her how to be loved again as if it were a wedding dance.

“I missed you so much, Vespa,” Buddy murmured against her forehead once she had finished blessing it with the holy oil of her lips.

“I missed you too, Bud,” Vespa returned.

Buddy didn’t need to say another word, for none could mean anything next to the way her arms felt wrapped around Vespa’s waist and holding her cheek in just the same way they always had. She did so anyway, mumbling a thousand sweet nothings into Vespa’s hair like a prayer.

Buddy held her tighter than she had all those years ago. As much as Vespa missed the carelessness of their younger years, she understood a certain innocence had been lost. There was no promise of tomorrow. She could see exactly why Buddy wanted to hold onto today.

Maybe Buddy didn’t wear the same robe she had back then. Maybe her hands didn’t smell like the same lotion. Maybe Vespa took minutes to relax in her arms when once she used to take a single second.

The shape of their rituals had changed. That didn’t mean that Buddy loved her any less.

Vespa wasn’t open to all changes, however. She knew for certain there was one more nightly ritual she wanted to keep, regardless of the shapes their lives took or how tight they held onto one another, counting their minutes and days and hours like blessings.

She leaned forward and closed the inches between their lips with a kiss. When she pulled away, Buddy’s lips had bloomed into a smile that was just as bright as she was.

“I missed that too,” Buddy murmured into Vespa’s lips when she pulled her close and kissed her once more.

“I must be lucky,” Vespa snorted. “You never used to kiss me twice.”

“Didn’t I?” Buddy mused. “Well, perhaps we ought to have a change in tradition.”

“Can’t argue with that, Bud,” Vespa smiled.

“Don’t you even try,” Buddy chuckled, pressing her forehead against Vespa’s so they might share the sensation between them.

**Author's Note:**

> man :')
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!! Make sure to SMASH that kudos button and leave a comment down below. dont forget to stay awesome gamers
> 
> Check me out on tumblr @hopeless-eccentric or on twitter @withane22 !!


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